


pull me out (don't lose your grip remix)

by Tyleet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyleet/pseuds/Tyleet





	pull me out (don't lose your grip remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pull Me Out from Inside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/138995) by [kristin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristin/pseuds/kristin). 



_The barn doors flew open just as the lights started blowing out._

 _He saw her lit up in explosions of sparks, cheap red hair whipping against her grim face. She didn't look much like a big bad, but she moved like one--slow, even steps across the barn floor, face expressionless as granite when they started firing. Hell, even demons_   
_flinched._ _  
_

_"Who are you?"_

 _She looked at him with the biggest, saddest pair of brown eyes he'd ever seen. Not that it changed anything. "I'm the one who raised you from perdition."_

 _"Yeah," Dean managed, and stabbed Ruby's knife into her chest. "Thanks for that._ "

 

*

 

Dean was having a bad day. First they took a tip from Ruby—freaking _Ruby_ —and Sam wouldn’t let him ignore it, so he drove two hundred miles to a mental hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. Dean hated Arizona. And then after they got on their stupid wool blend FBI suits and Dean stopped swearing at the goddamn _August in Arizona_ heat, after they intimidated their way into the hospital and started freezing their asses off in the air conditioning, after Dean muttered _Jesus Christ_ under his breath and saw an orderly’s eyes flash black and another take off down the hall—after that, of course Cas the demon-magnet Milton wasn’t in his room, so he and Sam split up. Dean freaked out a ton of nurses and drove anyone in the place who wasn’t bonkers even more so, and when he got back to the Impala Sam was in the driver’s seat and there was someone in scrubs huddled against the back window.

 

“Scoot,” Dean said firmly, and Sam rolled his eyes but climbed over to the passenger seat. Dean slid behind the wheel, and the guy in the back started giggling unsteadily.

 

“Dude, is he _high_?” Dean asked Sam, glancing in the rearview mirror. He caught a glimpse of messy dark hair and shuddering shoulders before snapping his attention back to the road, and the giant orange SUV about to take out his baby’s side mirror. Fucking Arizona. “A drugged up nutjob. Great tip, Ruby.”

 

“I know why the demons want him,” Sam said flatly. “He hears angels.”

 

Dean didn’t get it. “What, like voices? You do realize we picked him up from a psych ward, right?”

 

“Whatever he’s hearing, it’s real. Dean, he knew our names. He knew about the apocalypse. He recognized the _Impala_.”

 

Crap. “So he’s tapped into angel radio. In the middle of a war. No wonder they’re gunning for him.”

 

“That’s not all,” Sam said. “The demon I ganked in there? He mentioned a name, like he was talking about a general or something. Dean, the way he said it—I’ve only heard demons wig like that when they talk about Lilith.”

 

Dean’s heart sank. “And?”

 

Sam told him. It was bad. God, it was bad. Dean hit the gas.

 

*

 

  _"Who_ are _you?"_

 _"Anael."_

 _"Yeah, I figured that much," he snapped. "I mean what are you."_

 _She half smiled. "I'm an angel of the Lord."_

 _He couldn't breathe for half a second. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."_

 _"That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lightning flashed, and the shadow of wings rose up behind her like a demon blown halfway back to hell_.

 

*

 

"You're _sure_ the demon said Alastair." Just saying the name aloud—up here, in the air—felt physically wrong. But Dean was good at not letting that get to his face.

 

"No, Dean. I’m suddenly less sure than the first five times you asked me that same question." At least Sam was too pissy to notice anything. That was something.

 

"Roy did say Alastair,” came a freaked voice from the back. “Or at least the smoke did.”

 

 Dean caught a pair of spaced out blue eyes in the mirror. "Yeah, cause I'm supposed to take the word of the nut my brother kidnapped from the psych ward. That's a great idea." The blue eyes narrowed back at him, but Sam was already bitching again.

 

"Dean, he knew about the sixty-six seals, he knew your freaking _name_. Do you really think he’s insane?"

 

“He isn’t,” said a new voice, and Dean almost swerved right off the interstate, narrowly avoiding the guard rail.

 

“Dean, watch the _road_!” Sam yelped, and Dean was going to kill that red haired bitch if there was even a scratch on his baby’s fender, he really was.

 

"Jesus Christ, Ana, don't do that!"

 

She stared impassively back at him in the rearview mirror, and Uriel snorted next to her. Like it was Dean’s fault a pair of dickbag angels kept almost crashing his _car_. Cas was plastered against the window again, white-faced.

 

“He’s not a madman,” Uriel said contemptuously, because apparently the lecture about human greeting traditions still hadn’t taken, “He is Castiel.”

 

The madman gave a kind of wild croak, and Dean had had enough. "Right. Castiel. Fine, whatever. So, if the whackjob back there is sane, Alastair is for real too. Plus, I have an angel infestation in my baby. This is turning out to be just about the best day ever. I'm so glad we decided to go look at that hospital, Sam. Aren't you?"

 

Uriel started running his ugly mouth, but Dean ignored him and let Sam and his bitch-face handle it, focusing on getting them the hell out of Yavapai County. No way was he going to deal with this shit with Alastair within five hundred miles, angels or no angels.

 

“Calm down,” Ana said flatly, voice cutting through Dean’s thoughts like it always did. Bitch. “Dean. Did you say Alastair?” Oh. Oh, of course Ana knew. She’d brought him out of hell, she knew about Alastair, she knew how demons were made, she knew about. Dean. "If you don't want us in your car, find someplace to park. We have plans to make."

 

"So, I was really hearing you?” the not-madman asked, having apparently decided to just go with it, which didn’t say much for his supposed sanity. “How does that work, am I like--a psychic tuned into your heavenly frequency or--something?"

 

"You are no psychic,” Uriel said, making it sound like the worst kind of insult. But Uriel could make anything sound like the worst kind of insult. And big, dumb and mean talking at all was Dean’s cue to cut back in.

 

"Okay, nice as this chat has been, there will be no pulling over until, no plans, until I get some of my questions answered." And until he got them to Flagstaff, at the least. Maybe Needles. Maybe never. "Let's start with our feathered friends there. Why did you show up? For Alastair? A seal?"

 

“Castiel,” said Ana again.

 

“I thought his name was Cassidy,” Sam muttered. Dean ignored that.

 

"What about him?"

 

"We came to kill him,” Uriel said, looking at Cas with the creepiest smile Dean had ever seen on his ugly mug. “Hi, little brother.”

 

Dean tensed, and felt Sam surreptitiously reaching for his knife. Not that it would do any good. Freaking _angels_.

 

Ana unfurled the first two fingers of her hand, halfway to whammying them all to god knew where, and that’s when Cas opened his mouth because if he wasn’t crazy he was still a dumb motherfucker. “Wait, little brother?”

 

“What, you thought you were just some psychic?” Anna asked, but her hands relaxed again. “Or maybe a bitter, insane old veteran.” She smiled—actually _smiled_. Dean tried not to gawk. “Still a soldier, Cas.”

 

"Wait, this guy is an angel?” Sam asked eagerly, because his Sammy was still smart, still a nerd on the inside, even after everything.  “An amnesiac angel?"

 

“No. A fallen one,” said Uriel, and swept his fingers across Cas’s forehead, murmuring something into his ear. Cas conked out instantly, collapsing kind of hilariously into Uriel’s lap. 

 

“A fallen angel,” Dean said flatly. “I have a fallen angel in the back of my car.”

 

“Wait, but why doesn’t he remember?” Sam said immediately. “Does that mean he’s a demon, or—but no, that doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Dean,” Ana said, and reached forward to rest her hand on his shoulder, right over her scar. His whole body kind of burned, like it couldn’t decide between nausea and arousal. “I can protect us from Alastair. I promise, he won’t be able to find us. Pull over at the next rest stop.”

 

Dean did.

 

*

 _"Certain people--special people--can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I’m sorry if I frightened you."_

 _"And what--visage are you in now?” He waved a hand at her jeans and dyed hair, her worn Converses and unzipped Oberlin sweatshirt. “Holy college student?"_

 _"This?" She looked down at her body disinterestedly, brushing a hand against her—okay, yeah, he was looking, but her shirt was cut halfway down her midriff—perfect handfuls of breast. "This is--a vessel."_

 _He was sickened. "You're possessing some poor girl?"_

 

*

 

The nearest rest stop turned out to be a couple of curved stone picnic tables and one of the more disgusting bathrooms Dean had ever changed out of a suit in, clogged up toilets and buzzing flies, heavy stench of vomit topping it off. Sam kept flashing him concerned looks as he tugged off his suit jacket, but Dean ignored him and focused on not letting his bare feet touch the floor.

 

“Dean,” Sam said finally, just as Dean was rinsing his hands in the yellowed water  at the sink. “I’m not going to ask you. But he’s gunning for us, and I think I’m the only one in the dark here. Who’s Alastair?”

 

Dean shut his eyes briefly, and splashed his face. It dried on his skin almost immediately. “He’s a demon, Sammy. Think bad.” Something was working up in his throat, and he choked it into a laugh. “Think Picasso with a razor.”

 

“Dean,” Sam said again, quiet, and Dean pushed out of the bathroom.

 

Ana and Uriel were waiting by the car, the fallen angel still passed out in the backseat—and good for him he wasn’t human, otherwise he’d probably die of heat exhaustion without the AC on. There were a few other cars in the lot—an old couple throwing away empty water bottles, a kid running around the drinking fountain, some crumpled looking girls waiting in line for the women’s bathroom. Sam slung their crumpled suits into the trunk and Dean looked for the whites in each of their eyes.

 

“Okay,” Dean said with a little steel, planting his ass on the edge of a picnic table. Sam was opening the car doors so Cas could breathe. Always thinking about other people first, his Sam. “First things first. Exactly how hidden are we right now?”

 

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Uriel chuckled nastily. “The monkey’s scared.”

 

“The monkey’s gonna fire a couple rounds into your impenetrable skull if he don’t get his question answered,” Dean snapped. He wasn’t scared. He just didn’t want Alastair within a hundred miles of Sam, ever, and he didn’t care what that looked like.

 

“Extremely hidden,” Ana said. “My wings are cloaking us.” 

 

“I’ve seen your wings, and they ain’t that big,” Dean pointed out, and she made an impatient face.

 

“They’re big,” said Uriel, voice dripping with condescension. “Bigger than your puny mind could begin to grasp.”

“And what would you know about that, junkless?” he snapped, because why the hell did Ana even bring the asshole along if there weren’t any towns that needed smiting? “You’re like a Ken doll down there, right?”

 

“Okay, can we get back to the important stuff?” Sam asked impatiently. “Because it looks to me like we’ve still got a big problem—the fallen angel in the car? Which I still don’t completely understand, by the way.”

 

“The abomination has a point,” said Uriel, but Ana spoke before Dean could get up to hit him, immunity to pain or not.

 

“Thank you, Sam. Castiel does play a part in the matter at hand. So long as he remains in his human form, the demons will never stop hunting him.”

 

“So he is human,” said Sam, nodding. “I mean, I thought so, but—doesn’t fallen angel generally mean—demon?”

 

“Demons are human souls, Sam,” Dean said flatly. “We know that.” 

 

“Castiel fell to earth, not to hell,” confirmed Ana. “He ripped out his Grace—“ both she and Uriel flinched, barely perceptible except for the part where they were _angels_ and they didn’t have to _breathe_ , let alone wince, “—and was reformed as a human child. As he grew, his memories of heaven faded. There would be little difference between him and a natural-born human if the angels hadn’t gone to war.”

 

“Right,” Dean said. “You all came flapping out of heaven and started beaming your angel-intel into his brain, and he had no idea what he was even hearing.”  He remembered Cas, hazy and high in the car earlier, saying _It was the first thing I heard. Dean Winchester has been saved._

 

“He’s a flesh and blood angel,” Uriel said darkly. “Who can be killed. Tortured. And he hasn’t exactly been keeping a low profile.”

 

“Which is why he’s got the big guns out for his blood.”

 

“Precisely.” Ana took a step closer to him, blocking his view of the sunset except for where it glinted in the chemicals of her hair. “Dean, this is an opportunity.”

 

“What kind of opportunity?” Sam asked suspiciously, drawing himself closer to Dean’s side. Like it would help.

 

Ana didn’t look away from Dean’s face. “We can kill Alastair.”

 

Dean couldn’t help it; he laughed. “I always knew you were one crazy bitch, Ana, but I had no idea you were suicidal.”

 

“We can do it, Dean,” she said calmly. “He’s strong, but he’s not a match for three angels.”

 

“Really?” Dean challenged. “Because all I’ve seen you guys pull is a lotta white light and two fingered salutes. Alastair—“

 

“—we are of _the same garrison_ ,” Uriel growled. “We have fought together for millennia. There is no single demon except for Lilith herself that could stand against us.”

 

“Three? I thought Cas leveled down,” Sam pointed out the obvious.

 

“He is,” said Ana. “But it doesn’t have to stay like that. We can get him his Grace back.”

 

“Which means once you turn off your Romulan cloaking device, Alastair shows up expecting two Winchesters and a powered down angel, and instead he gets hit with the might of Heaven. It’s a good plan,” Dean told Ana, “but I got one problem.” He tossed his head at Uriel, the prickling down the back of his neck telling him he was pushing the right button. “In the car, you said you were here to kill him. Castiel. What changed?”

 

Uriel’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. He looked to Ana, who had stiffened so much Dean could have taken her for a marble statue.

 

“That is the other matter we need to discuss.”  Ana drew in a breath. “There are—other angels. Of my rank, or higher. Who are--no longer to be trusted.”

 

Oh, she had to be fucking _kidding_ them. “Are you serious? You’re serious. _Heaven_ has gone darkside.”

 

“Not Heaven,” Uriel snarled, stepping closer. “One or two angels.”

 

“Splitting hairs, junkless,” Dean bit out. “You’re telling me—“

 

“I am telling you,” Ana said, iron-hard, “to trust Uriel, myself, and Castiel, when he wakes. But no one else.”

 

“I am one hundred percent behind that plan, except for the part where I trust you,” Dean spat. “Give me one reason why we shouldn’t walk away right here, right now.” Dean was aware of Sam suddenly looming beside him, when a second ago he’d just been standing there. He should probably resent it, like Dean needed backup, or protection, or something, but at the moment he was gonna take any bone his brother threw him.

 

Ana just looked at him, with her eyes all liquid-huge and _Ana._ “We are in this together, Dean Winchester, and you will accept that, now. Or Lucifer might as well be risen.”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, and touched his shoulder. Dean jerked away, stumbling a few steps. His gaze fell on the open car door. The poor guy was still knocked out, but he had shifted around some, so one arm was flung out, hanging off the edge of the seat. Dean could see the veins in his wrist, his curled fingers. Cas Milton hadn’t asked for any of this, although maybe he deserved it. Another asshole angel fucking around with Dean’s species, bringing heaven and hell down on _their_ heads because he couldn’t leave well enough alone. I could hurt him, he thought distantly. I know how.

 

“Fuck,” he said out loud. He couldn’t help his laugh, although he knew damn well it didn’t bear much resemblance to one. “Okay.” 

 

The sun was down, but the sky was still lit up, streaks of pink and orange. Ana was still stone-faced, but something around her eyes had—not exactly softened, but relaxed. Like getting Dean to say yes was her winning card, and everything after this should be easy. Uriel was staring at him like he knew exactly what kind of thoughts Dean had been having, and was considering ripping Dean apart for them. Hell, maybe he did. He couldn’t look at his brother. Not right now.

 

He looked back at the body in his car. He’d never felt so tired. “So. Let’s save the world, gang.”

 

*

  _"Right. And why would an_ angel _—_ _“ he paused to emphasize the ridiculousness, “--rescue me from hell?"_

 _She tilted her head at him, swinging a long fall of red hair against her chest. "Good things do happen."_

 _"Not in my experience."_

 _Anael looked straight at him. "I saved you, Dean. Because it was written." She half smiled, the first real expression he'd seen on her. "And we have work for you."_

 


End file.
